Harry Potter And The Last Survival
by The Amber Fire
Summary: Post HBP 7th Year. The search is on for the remaining horcruxes. With new unexpected friends, wedding disasters and a visit to the past... and that's only the summer...Are you ready?


**Disclaimer-**** Characters, relating plots etc. are completely copyright to J.K. Rowling. The rest…entirely a figment of my imagination…**

**Note From Author: **Greetings to those of the world of fan fiction. This is a completed story after a few drafts and I would appreciate reviews. This is a first attempt and a first story within the world of fan fiction. When reviewing, please don't be too hurtful…no, I'm kidding. Be as brutal as you can…after all…it will make me a better writer in the future.

That's it for now,

Enjoy and engross into the world of Harry Potter,

Amber Fire

**Note from a friend:** Hey! Some of you might know me, I'm Velith and have written a one shot and a couple of other little tidbits. My friend Amber Fire here has decided to grow up (ok we'll not go that far) and to venture into the scary world of FANFICTION! Be proud and also BEWARE of her as well! Only joking but please do review as it is very much appreciated and has taken me (Velith) months to get her into this little world…..

**Little Plug: **Please read my story, Fields of Victory! (Couldn't resist) .

**The Boy Alone **

The residents of Number Four, Privet Drive lay asleep in their unperturbed dreams except for a boy leaning out of his bedroom window looking for anything that just wasn't right. Harry Potter had been like this every morning since he came home from his wizarding school less than a few weeks ago.

Harry gazed at the morning sun as it greeted him with fierce rays and felt the gentle iciness of the wind as it blew against his face. Pressing his face against the cold glass, Harry stared out of the window and noticed nothing unusual about Privet Drive.

The neighbour's cat meowed softly at the twittering bird; the flowerpots on doorsteps stood intact and the postman hummed softly as he turned a corner, his postbag brimming with envelopes. Harry sighed as he wiped away the marks his breathing left on the glass. He had hoped for at least some sign of danger to assure himself that he was staying at Privet Drive for a worthy reason except for on a dead man's wish.

Harry was an extremely unusual boy. He had blazing green eyes, his jet-black hair, that would never sit the way he wanted it to blew in the gentle breeze and he had a scar on his forehead. It was not the lightening bolt scar that made him unusual, which in fact it usually did, but Harry was a wizard and he was living in the house of Muggles (non-magical people).

Harry knew deep down that he wasn't a boy anymore. Harry wasn't the young boy who was known as 'the Boy Who Lived' or as the teenager called 'The Chosen One'. He was a man who would do what had to be done in order to succeed in killing Lord Voldemort.

Harry stepped away from his window and sat down in his chair. Ever since the death of his headmaster, Harry had devoted his summer 'holidays' to searching for the remaining Horcruxes, in which kept the remainder of Lord Voldemort's soul. As soon as Harry had heard that there were remaining Horcruxes to be discovered, he had confined himself to the four walls of his small room, in hope to find something to give him a clue as to where they could possibly be.

He had simply stopped caring about the untidiness of his desk as it was laden with parchment that were stained with ink and that had squashed sentences running up the sides where Harry had run out of parchment. When he noticed that he had no scraps of parchment left he had taken to scribbling across his walls. Compressed letters ran along the bare wall above his bed and to the side of his desk where at times he had slumped against the wall in despair and merely wrote along the wall.

Even though Harry had numerous notes involving Horcuxes, their possible whereabouts and their appearance, he had in a desk drawer an assortment of letters from different people, two asking the same things and one, in particular, that he had threatened to send a cursed reply after constant repeats of them. They read:

_Dear Harry,_

_I do hope you are okay as I have been extremely worried. I suppose I can't persuade you to return to school in September but Harry, you still have to complete your education-just think; if you never complete your final year you may not be able to pursue your career as an Auror. Please don't devote yourself to finding those Horcruxes or who R.A.B is, please promise me you will at least think about going back to school. For Dumbledore's sake._

_Love Hermione_

_Dear Harry,_

_Hope your keeping okay. Mum is constantly worried about you and always asks about you. Bill and Fleur's wedding is approaching. They both invited you to come for the reception at our house on August 25th. Will send you another letter to sort out travelling etc unless you pass your Apparition test, then there's no need. _

_I hope you come back to school in September as I really think you should because you want to be an Auror and you should finish school. I hope you aren't thinking about those stupid Hircruxes or Horsuxes or whatever they are. And don't fuss over R.A.B, he (or she) is probably no-one special._

_Ron_

_P.S. Ginny seems lonesome without you. I can tell. I've been at the receiving end of one of her Bat Bogey Hexes._

_Dear Harry,_

_Greetings from the Ministry of Magic. I trust you are enjoying your summer holidays and a break from school-I daresay you need it! Just a quick note, Harry, asking you again to take up the post as a spokesperson for the Ministry of Magic. You know, to give witches and wizards alike a bit of reassurance from the Chosen One-that the magical world isn't at a terrible peril. The public would be delighted to hear from you and know that the Chosen One can offer ease at these dark times._

_Best Wishes,_

_Rufus Scrimgeour,_

_Minister for Magic._

Harry slouched against the back of his chair and stared at the ceiling. He couldn't believe Rufus Scrimgeour had not given up until he succeeded in having Harry's word to tell witches and wizards that everything in the world was okay, when in fact it was far from it. But Harry was not going to confront the wizarding community to tell them everything was all right; even pretending to them would not put their minds at ease, or Harry's.

The death of Albus Dumbledore had forced Harry to find little comfort trying to find the remaining Horcruxes that would eventually leave Lord Voldemort totally vulnerable; that was until Harry could destroy the final Horcrux, which still was represented as a fragment of Voldemort's split soul. The idea of Horcruxes truly revolted Harry; he couldn't imagine killing someone just so he could split his soul and accept the offer of immortality.

Harry suddenly jumped from his chair, sending it skidding across the room in his surprise as he heard a soft swooping kind of noise outside his bedroom window. He pulled his glasses further up his nose and saw a magnificent swan-like bird gracefully flying towards his window.

Recognising the phoenix, Harry forced open his window, enabling the bird to settle itself on the inside window ledge where it rested its wings.

"Fawkes," Harry murmured, stroking the bird's head and it crowed softly. "Why are you here?" But his question had already been answered. Clasped in Fawkes' talons was a snowy white envelope bearing the Hogwarts crest.

Harry took the letter in his hands, turned it over and gently opened the flap. Inside was a letter stamped with the official Hogwarts crest and where unusual cramped writing was written across the page. Harry only found it unusual as he was used to the slanted, swirling writing of that belonging to the deceased Dumbledore.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_On August 20th you are to travel to the Ministry of Magic where you will take your Apparition test and you will either pass or fail. If your fail on your first attempt, you will be offered to take it a second time. Your appointment begins at eleven o'clock sharp, so do not be late. Your examiner will be Corbette Marble._

_All seventh year students are permitted to use magic outside school at the age of seventeen._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Professor M. McGonagall_

_Headmistress_

_P.S. I am also on orders from a certain portrait that you are most certainly not leaving Hogwarts._

Harry placed his fingers at the top of the page, as if to rip the parchment from top to bottom, but something stopped him. He felt as though he should obey one more Hogwarts instruction before he…a certain portrait…could it possibly be? Harry thought if Dumbledore's portrait had spoken to Professor McGonagall then could he possibly want to speak to Harry again?

In rage, Harry threw the letter down on the ground and felt his breathing pick up pace. "I'm sick of guessing!" He whispered fiercely. "If he wants to speak to me, he can! No he can't! He's a damn portrait!" Harry muttered angrily.

He wasn't angry at Dumbledore or McGonagall or anyone else for that matter, he was angry with himself. If he had shouted out to Dumbledore before he was murdered, if he had discovered more proof that Malfoy was helping Voldemort or even if he had fought harder with Snape he might have got revenge for Dumbledore's murder.

Snape…his old Potions master's name brought heavy hatred upon Harry who had never quite found the reason behind why Snape had murdered Dumbledore unless he had _truly _betrayed Dumbledore and decided to join Voldemort.

But Harry always had an uneasy doubt, as much as Dumbledore and others believed that Snape had turned good, that there was more to Snape than met the eye when it came to his old master. Harry had never fully accepted Snape's conversion as true but Dumbledore seemed extremely confident that the past Death Eater had changed for good. But due to recent events Harry's suspicion was nearly confirmed and on the night of Dumbledore's murder, it could have been etched in stone.

But through Snape's emotions that evening, there seemed to be a slight weakness in him, Harry remembered. As the Dark Mark flew high above the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts, when Harry faced Snape he threatened Snape to kill him and something seemed to break through to Snape. "_Kill me then…kill me…you coward…_" Harry had panted at Snape. Snape had rounded on him and bellowed never to call him coward…."_DON'T-_" Snape had screamed, almost in pain as he stood over Harry. "…_CALL ME COWARD!_"

Harry pushed the memory and Snape from his mind and fell on top of his bedcovers, staring into space. Absorbed in his anguish, Harry faintly heard a wavering sound that weaved through his thoughts, penetrating his mind. Harry looked to the window and saw the scarlet phoenix gently singing a lament, sounding quite like the one that echoed through the walls of Hogwarts on the night of Dumbledore's death.

Harry swallowed and fought through the pools of water that were forced down his skin but he could not stop hot tears skimming down his cheeks. He blinked for a long time until the tears stopped flowing and wiped his eyes. Dumbledore was dead and there was nothing that would bring him back, and the only thing that would avenge his death would be the destroying of the final Horcuxes, and perhaps the death of Snape…_No_, said a voice in Harry's head, _that just makes you as bad as him_…_and you're nothing like him_.

Harry moved to the end of his bed where Fawkes was within reach; Harry reached out and stroked his soft head and in return the phoenix hummed softly. "You'd better leave," Harry whispered. "I don't want my uncle finding a phoenix in my room or you could find yourself minus your feathers." Harry shooed the phoenix away and it gently bowed its head, and then took off into the morning sun.

Harry reached for his wand and studied it. It looked out of place against his Muggle wear. He ran his fingers over the grains of wood until it reached the foremost point of his wand. Closing his eyes and breathing in deeply, Harry gave his wand a sort of complicated swish and flick and in his head he thought with all his might: _Wingardium Levosia!_ The uttermost freedom flowed through him as he opened his eyes and saw his alarm clock floating in mid-air. He smiled for the first time in a long time.

The alarm clock now read _04.06_, Harry realised he had now been seventeen years old for the past four hours.

NOTE: If I find that enough people enjoy this, I will freely and gladly continue, but I need feedback. Should this just be a one-shot, or is there potential for a continuance? If I do, due to my schedule I will hopefully post every two weeks, so add me to your story alert or author alert.

Lastly: On one last note- (I have a lot of notes, don't I?) Please read and review and as Velith says flames make brilliant roasted marshmallows! (Where the heck does she get this from-I know not from reading HP) (Oh and read her story!)


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